


How About Jalapeno

by UchiHime



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Nothing really to warn for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:35:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UchiHime/pseuds/UchiHime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek works at Subway and it's $5 Footlong time. Stiles shows up everyday, but it's not the sandwiches he's interested in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How About Jalapeno

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted a write a silly little ficlet where Derek works at Subway and has to deal with asshole customers during $5 footlong time. It grew out of control. I spend way too much time at Subway for someone who doesn't actually work there (my granny does and I just like to keep her company) and I've seen customers do just about everything mentioned in this story. It's infuriating sometimes.
> 
> Anyway, story is for the most part unedited, so bear with the mistakes.

Derek hated February more than any month out of the year except maybe October. He hated October and February in equal measures because they meant the same thing. Actually he hated October more than February because October was a full three days longer than February and that might not seem like much, but it was a very big deal. But October was months away and his hatred for it could wait because right now he was too busy hating February.

February meant $5 Footlongs.

"I need seven footlongs," the customer stated. Derek very badly wanted to say that any order over three footlongs needed to called for in advance, but he would be lying through his teeth.

Just a few days before, a couple of guys had come in barely an hour before closing and ordered 96 footlongs. Derek had called him manager in hope that he could send the guys and their fucking insane order away, but his manager had simply asked if they had enough bread to fill the order, and since Derek had just finished baking bread for the next day, they had close to a full 192 pieces. Then his manager had said "we need this order, Derek." And that was that.

"What type of bread?" Derek asked while lining up the needed seven deli papers. The customer listed off the types of breads she needed and Derek turned to gather them.

Squeezing the bread to check for the softest was something his did instinctively now.There'd once been a lady who asked him to give her the softest bread they had. Derek had asked which type of bread she wanted, and she just repeated that she wanted the softest piece and she expected him to examine every piece of bread they had to find it. Derek had explained to her, through gritted teeth, that there was too many customers waiting for him to go through nearly 200 pieces of bread just because she was  a bitch. (Well he hadn't said the bitch part, but he'd thought it.) He asked her specify the type of bread she wanted and he would get her the softest of that, otherwise she would out of luck.

"What type of sandwiches?" Derek asked. The customer listed off what meat and cheeses went on which bread and Derek was grateful for her not taking forever in doing so. He put the meat and cheese on the bread, toasted the ones she requested, and slid the rest down the bar for his coworker to put the veggies on.

"May I help the next customer?" Derek asked, stripping off his gloves and putting on a fresh pair. He'd once had a customer who waited until he finished making her whole sandwich before demanding he throw it away and make it over because he hadn't changed gloves between working with a previous customer's meat and touching her veggie sub.

"I'll like a footlong Big Philly on flatbread," the next customer said.

"The Big Philly is not part of the $5 footlong special, is that okay?" The words came out as a conditioned response to hearing the name of the sandwich, not even requiring him to think before saying them.

"What?"

"The Big Philly is not $5," Derek repeated, grinding his teeth because he just knew he wouldn't be able to get through one dinnertime rush without having this conversation yet again.

"Why not?" The customer demanded.

"The Big Philly is a Supreme sandwich. The special only covers Regular and Premium footlongs."

"The commercial said any footlong."

"It's any Regular or Premium footlong. Supreme sandwiches are not included." Derek had mastered the art of saying the exact same thing in a different way in hopes of getting the message through ignorant people's thick skulls. One would think this wouldn't be such a big deal since the Philly was literally the only sandwich listed on the menu as a Supreme. "If you like, you can get the Steak & Cheese. It has the same meat as the Philly."

"What the difference between the Steak and Philly?"

"As I said, they have the same meat, but the Philly has double meat and double cheese making it a Supreme, while the Steak is a Premium."

"I don't want that," the mad spat. "I'll take the Feast instead."

Derek had worked as Subway for nearly a year before even learning the Subway Feast even existed. It wasn't listed on the menu, but people who wanted usually knew about it. It contained just about every type of meat they offered and if the guy thought he was going to get it for $5, he was out of his mind.

"The Feast is also a Supreme sandwich and excluded from the sale."

"That's bullshit!" The customer yelled. "I'd like to speak to a manager."

"I am the manager," Derek said. It was a lie, but only a very small one. The store manager worked day shift and since the store was a small one, they didn't see need for a second manager to cover the night shift. Derek was his shift leader, but not actually a manager.

"Then I'd like to talk to your boss."

"I can give you the number to corporate, but you'll have to step out of line and wait for me to finish serving other customers first."

The guy made an expression that looked more constipated than angry, then growled, "Fuck it. I'll go to the other Subway." The rudely shoved his way towards the door without another word.

Derek almost felt sorry for whatever Subway the guy ended up at, especially since the scenario was likely to play out the exact same way. People seemed to think that each Subway made their own rules, but the decision of what was and wasn't included is sales and promotions was done by corporate and every store did it the same way.

"I'll take the next customer," Derek said putting aside the piece of flatbread he'd gotten out for the jerk who'd stormed off.

"That guy was a piece of work, huh?" The kid asked. Well, Derek mentally dubbed him a kid but he looked to be around the age to attend one of the Universities in the area.

"He's not my problem anymore. What can I get for you?"

"You know, if you maybe smiled a bit, people might actually find you charming and helpful instead of getting their panties in a twist just because you read them the fine print."

Derek pursed his lips, but said nothing.

The kid sighed. "I need two footlongs, both on Honey Oat bread. One a turkey breast, the other a veggie." Derek turned and got the breads. He laid them on the deli paper and grabbed a knife out of the cubby. "If you don't want people to find you charming and helpful, why get a job in the service industry?" The kid asked as Derek deftly slit the bread open.

"What cheese?" Derek asked instead of answering what he assumed had been a rhetorical question anyway.

"Pepper Jack on the turkey, none on the veggie."

"Toasted?" Derek asked, and when the kid shook his head, Derek slid the two sandwiches down the bar and quickly changed his gloves again. "I can take the next customer."

"Someone's not getting employee of the month anytime soon." Derek ignored the comment and continued working. The kid's ordered was done and he was out the door within a few minutes.

* * *

 

"What can I get you?" Derek asked, not looking up from where he was putting cheese of the previous customer's sandwich with one hand and grabbing deli paper with the other. It had been a long night and he was fifteen minutes from being able to lock the doors and get out of there.

"Still not winning any awards for customer service, I see." The next person in line commented. Derek looked up and was greeted by a vaguely familiar face.

Okay, so maybe he was only wishing it was only vaguely familiar. He saw so many people on a regular basis, it would make sense not to remember individual customers, but those brown eyes were something he was having a hard time forgetting. It had only been 24 hours, though, so it didn't matter that he hadn't forgotten this kid.

"What can I get you?" Derek asked again. He was working the line by himself because it was so close to closing and his coworker was in the back doing setups for the next day.

"I want to try something new. How about a meatball on Italian. Busy night?"

"It's almost over. What cheese?"

"Provolone. Anyone else give you trouble."

"There's always someone giving me trouble. What would you like on you club, sir?" He asked the customer waiting for his veggies.

"Did you try out my suggestion?" The kid asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the glass. Derek shot him a confused look, but quickly turned his attention back to his task. “You know, trying on a smile every now and then. Well, perhaps you should start small. A smirk or a grimace, maybe. I don’t think your facial muscles would transition well from the permanent scowl to a full smile.”

Derek barely refrained from rolling his eyes as he added the sauce to the other customer’s sandwich and cut it in half. “What would you like?” He asked the kid.

“A smile.”

“We don’t have that vegetable, how about jalapeno?”

The kid blew air through his nose in a way that vaguely resembled something of a laugh. “Just lettuce and mayo then.”

* * *

 

Derek was working even though it was his scheduled off day because everyone at his store were operating under the assumption that he did not have a life and they could call him to cover their shifts whenever they wanted and he would do it because he had nothing better to be doing with his life. The fact that this was mostly true was beside the point.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?”

Derek bit back a groan. It had been a pretty slow night and the person that just entered was the first customer in nearly half an hour and it was just Derek’s luck that it was that damn kid. Thunder roared outside as the kid ran his hand over his buzzcut head and flicked water on the floor to join the puddle already forming at his feet.

Derek had put out the wet floor sign at the first drop of rain earlier that day, but no one had come into the store as completely soaking wet as this kid was. He was drenched from head to toe and didn’t have a coat or umbrella in sight. The damn kid was going to catch his death of a cold, but that was his problem. The fact that Derek was having difficulty pulling his eyes away from the shapely outline of muscles under those wet clothes was Derek’s problem.

“You've eaten Subway everyday this week,” Derek commented, forcing his eyes up to the kid’s eyes bypassing the captivating array of freckles and moles on his red cheeks. “Aren’t you sick of it by now.”

“Maybe,” the kid said. “Are you sick of frowning all the time yet?”

Derek rolled his eyes and pulled out a sheet of deli paper. “What type of sandwich would you like?”

The kid leaned against the counter again and stared up at the menu in thought. Derek forced himself to ignore the way his wet shirt clung like a second skin, only to get hypnotized by the way his long, wet eyelashes brushed against his cheeks as he blinked. “Sweet or Spicy?”

“What?” Derek asked, startled out of his intense observation of the curve of the kid’s cheekbones.

“Sweet Onion Teriyaki or Spicy Italian?”

“I like the...uh.. Spicy.”

The kid grinned. “I'm shocked that you admitted to liking something, but am not at all surprised that you picked spicy over sweet.”

“I like things,” Derek stated.

“How often do you admit to it? I mean, you strike me as the type to deny having any likes or interests and who denies himself the simplest of pleasures.”

“I like things,” Derek repeated.

“What kind of things?”

“What?”

“What kind of things do you like. I like long walks on the beach and dancing in the rain, but I don’t think that’s something we would have in common.”

Derek was silent for a moment, just staring at the kid’s soulful eyes and watching the drop of water rolling from his hairline down his temple. “I like the rain,” he finally said. “What kind of bread?”

* * *

 

“What are you two doing here?” Derek asked Erica and Boyd.

“That’s no way to greet customers, Derek.”

“Derek? Is that your name?” The kid had come in just before Erica and Boyd, but had skipped to the head the line because he only wanted cookies and not a sandwich. “You don’t look like a Derek. You look like you ate a Derek for breakfast. But you don’t look much like a Subway ‘Sandwich Artist’ either, so I guess it’s okay.”

Derek rolled his eyes but ignored him. “What can I get for you, Erica?”

“Don’t you wanna know my name?”

“Yeah, Derek, don’t you wanna know his name?” Erica asked, her red lips twisted into a grin.

Derek said nothing.

“I’m Stiles,” the kid said.

“What kind of name is Stiles?” Boyd asked.

“A useful one when your real name is something like roadkill.”

“Wait, is this him?” Erica asked. “Is this the kid you’ve been talking about.”

“Kid? I’m eighteen.”

“Derek’s twenty-four.”

“Are you two getting sandwiches or not,” Derek cut in before anything else could be said.

“You need to work on your customer service skills.”

“That’s what I’ve been telling him!” The kid-- Stiles piped in.

Derek just glared at everyone.

* * *

 

“I had the worse day in history,” Stiles stated the moment he stepped through the door. “My psychology teacher is the biggest idiot on the planet! Like, I don’t even know where to begin with him.”

Derek was working the veggie half of the counter and the register and his coworker was doing the bread and meat. Stiles came to a stop in front of Matt with his arms crossed over his chest and a glare that could kill on his face. “I want Derek to make my sandwich,” he stated.

Matt shot Derek a look, but obediently moved down the line to take Derek’s place at the veggie station while Derek finished ringing out the customer he was with.

“What do you want today, Stiles?” Derek asked the irate teen.

“Bacon. Lot’s and lot’s of bacon. Fuck cholesterol and blood pressure. Give me bacon.”

“A BLT then? On what bread?”

“Wheat bread, shredded cheese, toasted. How can a guy employed in a field where he’s meant to be educating others be so fucking stupid and close-minded.”

“What did your psychology teacher say?”

“He said homosexuality is a learned behavior that can be trained out of a person with the proper reward/punishment system. I’ve never heard a bigger load a bullshit in my life. I can tell you this, I sure as hell didn’t learn to like cock from someone else. And no amount of rewards or punishment is going to make me like it any less. God I could have strangled that man! Psychological studies show that reward/punishment isn’t even the proper way to teach anything. New behaviors are taught with positive and negative reinforcement and repetition. I swear to god, he will not have a job by the end of the semester. It’s his first year teaching, and it’s either going to be his last, or I’m gonna kill him.”

“Please don’t bring up your potential homicides here. I’d like some plausible deniability.”

A chuckle escaped Stiles in such a sudden and short noise it almost sounded as if he’d been reluctant to let it out. “You know, sometimes I think you think you’re funny, but then I remember that no guy who broods as much as you could have a sense of humor.”

“You’re right, I couldn’t possibly find anything amusing. I’m an android.”

“I knew it!” Stiles exclaimed, pumping his fist and smiling large.

Derek just grinned and turned his attention to fixing the teen’s sandwich.

* * *

 

“Where’s my bacon?” The woman Derek was serving asked.

“This sandwich doesn’t come with bacon, you can add it but it’ll no longer be $5.”

“But that says it has bacon on it.”

“Ma’am, you asked for the Club. The Club has turkey, ham, and roast beef.”

“And bacon. Right there it says turkey, ham, and bacon.”

“Ma’am, that’s the Melt. You asked for the Club. Would you like me to make you a melt instead.”

“Please.” The way she said it made it sound more like a profanity than a courtesy, as if Derek had been the one who messed up and not her. Derek pursed his lips and started taking the roast beef off her sandwich and putting it back in the bin on the line. He grabbed some strips of bacon and started placing it on the sandwich. “Aren’t you going to change the ham,” the woman barked.

“Excuse me?”

“The ham! The roast beef touched that ham. It’ll mess with the flavor of my sandwich. I want fresh ham and fresh bacon now, too.”

“Yes ma’am,” Derek said, taking a deep breath and stripping the meat off the sandwich. He didn’t even bother returning it to the bins this time, despite it still being perfectly good meat, instead he stuffed it into the hole on the line where used deli paper and empty meat trays were deposited. “What cheese would you like on your Melt, ma’am?”

“Can I get American and Provolone?”

“Would you like it mixed in, or do you want extra cheese?”

“Extra cheese.”

“There is a fee for extra cheese.”

“I know that.”

Derek pursed his lips again and gave the sandwich his full attention. Because the woman was the only customer in the store, aside from Stiles who was seated at one of the round bar tables  eating cookies, Derek was the only working the line. He dealt with the woman as quickly as possible and went to ring her out when she declared, “I have another sandwich.”

Derek prayed for the lord to give him strength. He had asked the woman if this would be the only sandwich for her tonight and she’d said yes. If she’d said she had more than one sandwich, he would have made them all at once and saved himself some time.

He saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Stiles balanced precariously on just two legs of the barstool and making the stupidest face Derek had ever seen. It took everything in him not to laugh. The woman turned to see what Derek was staring at, but Stiles immediately went deadpan and sat up properly in his seat. The moment her back was turned, Stiles made another silly face. It was a chore to keep from smiling.

* * *

 

Stiles was already there when Derek arrived for his shift. He’d claimed a corner table and was typing faster than humanly possible on the laptop in front of him. Derek was five minutes late clocking in even though he’d arrived on time, because he’d gotten distracted watching Stiles holding a cup of soda in front of his face and trying to catch the straw with his tongue instead of just moving the cup closer to his mouth. And when he finally had the straw between his lips, watching him play with it with his tongue and teeth was an even bigger distraction.

* * *

The last day of February, Stiles walked in and leaned against the glass. “I think I’ve had just about everything except...” Stiles paused in his pursual of the menu and caught Derek’s eye. “Is the Seafood gunk any good? I mean, nothing with ‘gunk’ in the name is ever good.”

“Good thing it’s not called the Seafood Gunk. It’s the Seafood Sensation.”

“Am I to assume it’s sensational?”

“I’m sure you’re going to try it no matter what I say.”

“You’re right. I’ll take the Sensational Seafood Gunk on Italian bread please.”

“What would you like?”

“A smile.”

“We still don’t have that vegetable.”

“Guess I’ll take jalapeno then.”

* * *

 

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles greeted, coming into the store with a large smile on his face.

“What are you doing here?” Derek asked, genuinely confused. It had been a relatively slow night now the February was over and they were closing in just about five minutes. Derek hadn’t been expecting to see anyone else, especially not Stiles.

“The same thing I’ve been doing here for the past three or so weeks.”

“The sale ended yesterday.”

“I was never here for the sale, Derek. I thought that was obvious. I mean, it was a good sale, but $5 a day adds up when you’re on a college student salary.”

“Then why come here everyday?”

“Oh my god, you’re kidding right. You can’t be that dense.”

Derek frowned.

“I come here to see you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. I guess the famed Stilinski Wooing Skills have once more failed me.” The kid just seemed...deflated… defeated.

Derek glanced out the window. It had been raining pretty hard all day, but there hadn’t been in any thunder or lightning. He turned back to the kid. “Those long walks on the beach and playing in the rain that you like so much, ever do both at once? I’ve never done either, but I’m willing to try something new.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to check out my [tumblr](http://littleredtriskele.tumblr.com).


End file.
